


A million truths and Lies

by lionsmuse



Series: Million Truths and Lies [1]
Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsmuse/pseuds/lionsmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has issues dealing with his inner demons around Dan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A million truths and Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Idiotque by Radiohead and I highly suggest that you listen to it while reading it.  
> Alternative Summary for Sasha:  
> Phil's not all like LETS GO EAT SOME BITCHES its more like fuck I don't want to eat people, but damn Dan give me the booty

The rain was really coming down that night. The sound of it pelting down of the tin roofs was almost deafening. I pulled my hood up over my head in a futile attempt to avoid the downpour. I carefully avoided almost every puddle, (I stepped right into a giant one making my feet soaked.) Although the clouds had completely covered the moon so no light shone down, I had walked these streets for my whole life, and had gone to their house for almost a year. 

Lamp posts flickered on and off, the yellowish light made all the colors a little off in my eyes. I rubbed them and moisture came off in my hand.

As I walked down the street, I looked at every house and saw that each one was full of families. Something I've been looking for, something that was once there but suddenly slipped out of my grasp before I had even known that it could fall. My family wasn't what you would exactly call "perfect". I probably had the most dysfunctional family of all time. Well no, probably not the most dysfunctional of /all time/, but it had to be in the top ten. My mother had left when I was four claiming that being married and having a child was holding her back from her "true potential". Whatever that meant. So my dad resented me for being born. He repetitively abused me, both mentally and physically. It was mostly because I was gay and he didn't want a "fag" living in his house. So he tried to beat the gay out of me. I had broken a couple of ribs and had gotten many nasty scars, but that was nothing compared to how bad it made my head. Every day I used to come home and sit on the couch with the gun in my hand. The only thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger was the off chance that my hand would jerk, and the wound would only leave me paralyzed, not dead. 

That fear, was the only thing that kept me alive.

When I turned 17 I couldn't stand the constant abuse and couldn't stand living with my father. I moved in with my friend Pj, who knew about my background but, politely never asked much about it. Pj and I weren’t the closest friends, but we both had some messed up minds, so we tended to stick together. 

The only upside to my nonexistent family was that there were no questions asked. If I had a late night out, there was no one to ask me where I'd been. No one worried where I got those cuts from or why I always came home and stumbled into a bed room. They didn’t ask why some nights I acted like I was having one of the best trips, when I hadn’t consumed any booze, or taken any drugs. 

They didn’t care about what I got up to during my nights.

I stuck my key in the lock and gave it a hard turn. The old lock made a loud click and the door swung slightly open. The lights weren't on in the first floor but I could see the light on under the closed basement door. I kicked off my shoes and threw my dripping wet hoodie on the couch. I cringed as the white couch added a few more red stains. I reached over and flicked on a lamp that lit up the room, a major relief. I hate the dark. The house was pretty old but, it was the perfect place for me and my friends. All the furniture was knock-offs and cheap, but that was what you had to do if you were constantly breaking furniture and didn't have a very steady income. Although I worked at the drug store on High Street, it was only enough to pay for the house and home cooking every night. I'm not complaining- I really don't need to buy that much. I only need to buy enough for me, and Pj can usually supply for himself.

I turned around on my heel, socks slipping on the slick surface. As I walked closer to the basement door I could feel the distinct vibration of the base line of one of their favorite songs. Humming the Muse lyrics I slowly grasped the handle of the door. Sighing softly I quietly turned the knob and opened the door. Light flooded into the ill lit rooms behind me. I could hear them laughing down below and could picture then sitting there, in their usual seats, around a small table. I walked down the stairs, anticipation building the closer I got to them.

Turning left after I reached the bottom if the stairs, I placed my phone and wallet on the small table. As I turned around they all noticed me. Three pairs of too bright eyes shone as they looked at me. Each read the same, sorrow and guilt. The room quieted down almost instantly and they cut the music. They could see the look on my face. They knew what had just happened. 

Pj slowly stood up from the table, disengaging himself from Chris' lap. They had probably the only healthy relationship in all of our kind as usually one of the people in the pairing ended up dead by the end of it. Pj walked slowly towards me, unconsciously making his body appear much smaller than it really was. Making his body look like less of a threat. Slowly he opened his arms. I ran to him burying my face in his tee shirt. His arms closed around my shaking form, whispering soothing nothings in my ear.

'It's ok, Phil, it’s ok,' he said into my hair. But it wasn't ok. This was never going to be ok. The thought of what actually happened was still making me sick to my stomach.

I was a monster. A real proper monster. I couldn't live with myself like this.

I took deep breaths, trying to stop the sobs from escaping my lips. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, waiting to see what would happen. Would I snap again? Would the monster that sat there at the pit of my stomach come clawing out, shoving havoc on every soul it touched? Or would I shut down like many times before? 

"Did you stop in time?" Pj asked, already knowing the answer but wanting confirmation from me. I shook my head, one quick movement that said so much. 

"Don't shut down Phil. Don't let that part come out. Put it away. Squash it down. That's not you. It's the monster in all of us. You are not alone." Pj continued to say sweet nothings, but like usual they did virtually nothing. Even though he was my best friend, I still felt alone. I was a shell of the person I used to be. I knew it was all Pj's fault that this had happened to me but I didn't hate him for it anymore. I now knew how hard it was to control the animal inside.

"I'm so sorry Phil. I never wanted this to happen to you."

This time had gone too far. The boy had looked too close to him, smelled similar and everything. My mind flashed back to that perfect vanilla smell of /him/. The boy I had attacked had the same brown hair, styled into perfect fringe and even had similar chocolate eyes, but it wasn't /him/. But still, I couldn't help myself. At least I knew it was quick. I kept putting it off, which only made it so much worse.

The others, Chris and Luke, excused themselves from the room quickly and silently. They moved just a little too fast, they should really know not to do that so often. We couldn't do anything to attract attention to ourselves without risking getting found out. The secret was much too large for normal people to handle- much too large for even /me/ to handle. 

 

I sat down on the soft carpeting underneath me. I stopped crying as I felt the sudden shift in my head. For a second I wondered what had triggered this, but my thoughts were sliping away at an alarming rate. Instead of sadness, pure terror blazed through my brain.

"Shit," I slurred as I realized what was happening. I tried to get as far away from Peej as possible, knowing that his smell, more similar to mine than any human, would set me off.

"Fuck, Phil we gotta get you help," Peej said as he watched me. He bent down and scooped me up. I wrestled to try get out of his grip but my superhuman strength was no match to his when my mind was changing. There was no way he could hang on to my thrashing body. My thoughts were quickly slipping from rational to monster. The room was shifting and distorting, my vision going red on the outside. I could smell the distinct scent of blood on his lips; he must have gone drinking earlier today. I should have joined him; I could have avoided all of this. But because of how much I hate myself I put it off and now other people have died.

I growled in frustration and pain as I felt my fangs grow out and my eyes burned as they changed from my light blue to the dull red of hunger.

"Pj, just lock me down here. Let me be alone," I said as my conscious thoughts finally slipped out of my head, somewhat of a relief in a sick way, and the only thought that replaced them was blood.

~6 hours later~

I awoke to the pounding in my head and the relief that the fire was dulled in my throat. I looked around me to see that I was in the guest bedroom, which was only ever used by me when I was too messed up for my own bed. The sunlight from the window directly across the room let in too much light for my weakened eyes. It was already sunset. Squinting, I looked down to see that someone had changed my clothing, probably Pj, but there was still blood on my skin and under my nails. It reminded me of what happened last night, the memories flooding back. The blood surly wasn't human and for a second I panicked thinking that I had hurt one of my friends, but quickly I realized that it was just animal blood. We had tons of it stored in a mini fridge in the den for emergencies. 

Apparently last night was one.

I stood up and placed my feet on the shag rug that surrounded the bed. I stretched, arching my back, raising my arms and standing up into my toes. There was a lot of bone snapping so I knew that I must have been sleeping for a while. I picked at the clothing that was a little too big on me, it was an obscure band tee shirt and some ill fitting sweat pants that wanted to fall off my slim hips. I walked to the mirror that was on the back I the door and fixed my fringe with my hands. It looked pretty shitty, but it was all that I was going to do, plus who was I going to impress? I looked around the room until I spotted my clothing neatly folded by the door. The tee shirt and pants were obviously cleaned. I could tell by the very fake scent of laundry detergent that they were emitting. But the coat I had worn was still dirty. I tossed it on the bed and cringed when I noticed there was still dried blood from last evening’s earlier activities before I came to the house. I slipped on my shoes that were very old Nike tennis shoes, but I couldn't be bothered to get new ones. 

Walking out of the room, I noticed that I was alone in the house. There were no breaths or too quick heart beats that would alert me of my friends. I walked down the stairs and put in headphones. I picked my favorite song, Weird Fishes by Radiohead, and then looked up. I was appalled at the mess I was seeing. It honestly looked like the scene of a murder. There was blood all over the walls and furniture and there were a few broken chairs scattered around the first floor. I knew I could be destructive, but just not /this/ destructive. I disgusted myself. I walked to the sink and got out some cleaner and set out to clean up the mess I had made.

****

 

One hour later I was finished cleaning and left the house, locking the door behind me with the key I always had in my pocket. It was a crisp late evening in London today. Even though I was in a neighborhood outside the city, there was still a lot of activity. Women dressed in work suites and men dressed in coats came strutting down the side walk. Most of the people I passed didn't even notice me, completely absorbed in their own worlds, but the few that did often did a double take, worry and confusion in their eyes. I wondered what I must look like to them. I was tall, but I honestly look pretty innocent. The blood on the jacket though, didn't really help the "lost puppy" look that had somehow been etched into my face permanently. 

It was probably a result of all the sleepless nights I’d been having. I set out towards the middle of the city, where all the tall and official building were located. I didn't know where I was going really; I just really needed to get out of that house and out of my head.


End file.
